


Companions (+ Other Fallout Characters) React to a Clueless Sole Survivor

by tea_petty



Series: Collection of Companions' Reactions [31]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 12:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: The Sole Survivor wouldn't recognize a love confession if it punched them in the face.





	Companions (+ Other Fallout Characters) React to a Clueless Sole Survivor

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-petty

The rose glory of a dying afternoon painted the grimy workshop in hues unfit for the gnarled metal, and film of motor oil that settled in it. It was perhaps though, not so unfitting for the man leaning against the counter. His goggles pushed his hair back into crazed tufts, allowing his limpid eyes to study the face of the man across from him, uninhibited.

Sole was unaware of this scrutiny; too busy wiping down his oil streaked forearms with a rag that probably wasn’t much cleaner, from his day spent elbow deep in the bowels of some junker he and Sturges had taken up as a side project. Be it the focus of his task, or his natural obliviousness, he never picked out the slight flush at his friend’s cheekbones, or the way his eyes coveted his trivialities like the lazy slope of his shoulders or the wiry hair at his arms.

Sturges set his jaw, the tension of the words stuck in his throat, holding him stiff like a corpse.

It was now or never, according to his plan. They’d spent the entire day together, and while Sturges had explicitly planned for this particular day, this wasn’t so different from how they passed most. He’d spent the entire day, loving this man beside him, and selecting his words, like some men chose flowers. Neither of them was much for flowers, though Sturges would’ve selected those too, had Sole desired them.

It was time; Sturges knew this. 

The plan told him. The warning sinking of the sun, dropping like grains of sand in an hourglass, told him too. The way his heart seized at his ribs, told him third. His window was closing.

He tried with all his might to stifle the crazed fear that swelled in him with near-apocalyptic vengeance. He’d be changing everything between them forever; their simple, cozy routine would either become richer and cozier still, or break entirely. This is the burden that weighed at Sturges, and this is what he’d have to share with Sole now.

At the slip of the greasy rag against Sole’s skin, the shadows that lengthened at the hollows of Sole’s cheekbones, and the buzz of some sort of critter somewhere, nestled in the grass, setting the rhythm for a twilight drone, Sturges took a deep breath and spoke his piece.

“Sole,” Sturges started, his subtle drawl softening the edge of nervousness, “can we talk?”

Sole turned to the man and smiled, “Sure thing.” He slung the rag over his shoulder and leaned up against the support post beneath the overhang of Sturges’ home. He crossed his arms comfortably. “What’s eating at you?”

It really had been eating at him, hadn’t it, Sturges thought. Burrowing in him until he had no choice but to do something like this. To risk it all, or succumb to such restless, itching gnawing for the rest of his life perhaps. Sturges believed this anyways; that he might spend the rest of his life loving Sole either way.

“Well, it’s…” Sturges started, and then the reality of the moment hit him, not for the first time, but it hit him again, and like someone being hit over the head with something again and again, Sturges needed pause for recovery, lest his brain melt and he watch it ooze out of his nose.

Sole raised his eyebrows in the meantime, thinking perhaps that maybe this talk was something serious. A fluttered sort of nervousness stirred in him.

“I –“ Sturges cleared his throat, and he let out a steadying stream of air in hope it would dry his clammy palms, and still the feeble tremble in his fingers. “I don’t really know how to do _this_, so I s’pose I’ll just come right out and say it.”

Sturges forced his eyes to bore into Sole’s. His daddy had always told him, that when a man was to look at the person he loved, he ought to spend as much time as possible looking into their eyes. They were the window to the soul after all, and it was the utmost privilege to look into that of a kindred spirit.

“I…” the word was right on the tip of his tongue, live ammunition ready to explode all over Sturges’ life. _Lo- _“like you.” His finger caught in the ring of the grenade. Sturges simultaneously hated himself for pulling the punch, wanted to be rendered a pink mist for his stupidity, but tossed the stupid, earth shaking sentiment away none the less. “A real lot, if you catch my meaning.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Sole said, after thinking for a couple of minutes. He flushed darkly, a sentiment Sturges felt his own cheeks mimicking, before a wide grin split at his lips. “We’ve become great friends, haven’t we?”

Sturges swallowed tightly, looking like he was in pain. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“Uh, sure, we have. Although,” Sturges swallowed again, though his damn feelings remained an unbudging lump in his throat, “in the manner I was speaking of, I was thinking…more than that.”

He shot Sole a meaningful glance.

Sole’s eyebrows went up, his eyes widening.

Sturges’ heart jerked in his chest. _Yes! _He thought in mingled exultation and horror.

“_Best_ friends?”

_No!_

“Not…exactly,” Sturges’ demeanor took on that of someone who was trying to keep a straight face as someone jammed rusty nails up under his skin. 

Sole’s eyebrows drew together, and the way he looked at Sturges – as if the latter were the one not making sense – reinforced the writhing motion of his gut as if Sole were wringing it out himself.

“Mega…best friends?”

Sole blinked back at Sturges in stupidity that was agonizing as well as glorious and despite everything Sturges felt the beginnings of a laugh start to bubble up in him. In the time Sturges had known Sole, he’d never failed to be somewhat obtuse; and yet he’d insisted on dancing around the true nature of his feelings out of fear. 

Really, if Sole had understood what was happening right away, Sturges would’ve been suspicious he’d been an Institute transplant.

“You know what?” Sturges asked with a rueful little smile, “yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Sole beamed, before bringing his arm up to clap Sturges heartily on the back a few times. After the final impact, his arm curled and brought Sturges into a one-armed hug. Sturges withered beneath the touch, his good-natured demeanor untouched, concealing how he reeled underneath.

Looking at Sole made him feel abysmal right about then, and though he’d tried to linger in every offhanded touch for the past few months, in this moment he wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the man as possible.

Sturges wiped his hands on the old rag casually, before tossing it back onto the counter.

“Hey, do you mind if I head out for the night?”

If Sole could sense something was wrong, he never showed it.

“Yeah, I can finish cleaning up over here.”

Sole tossed a nearby lug wrench onto a somewhat sorted tray of a cart and then wheeled it into the corner next to the large metal cabinet, as if to prove his point.

“Great, thanks.”

“No problem, _best friend_.”

Sturges recoiled at the last part, his gait faltering slightly as he left the overhang and headed to Sanctuary’s watering hole for the evening. All of this fell across Sole’s back as busied himself with tidying up. 

He worked in silence that was only punctuated by the abrasive clanging of metal against metal as he put the tools away, and the scratch of the broom bristles half-heartedly sweeping away dirt, in favor of a little bit of less dirt, against the concrete. When an observant Minuteman took pause beneath the overhang, Sole was still too preoccupied with cleaning up to notice right away.

“You know, he’s letting you get away with it.”

Sole jerked, startled by the sudden voice. He whirled around to face the speaker before he seemed to settle back into his frame.

“Who’s getting away with what, Garvey?”

Preston nodded in the direction of _The Nuclear Option_, where Sturges had disappeared into minutes before.

“Sturges. He probably thinks you’re playing dumb to get out of rejecting him straight.”

“_Rejecting_ him? I never rejected him!”

Preston studied Sole for a few moments as if trying to decide for himself.

“No, I don’t think you meant to,” he finally said. “But General, if I may be so bold – go and tell him that already.”

Sole had fallen back into his same dazed look as he struggled to discern what Preston meant. His mind was reaching, but it was being held just a tiny bit too far above his reach. Preston, considering his part to be done, started towards the local pub as well. As Sole watched his back fuzz out of resolution as the distance grew, the Minuteman turned briefly once more to shout something.

“He’s had a thing for you since _forever_!”

Sole’s eyes widened then, and Preston swore, even from that distance he could’ve seen the single thought running through his head in big, bold print; _I’ve fucked up._

Despite how slowly the day’s revelations had come to Sole, he was able to connect the last few dots quickly enough from there on. Preston was unsurprised as Sole turned on his heel at an almost comical speed, before vaulting off into the direction of _The Nuclear Option_, kicking up dust in his wake.

By the time he’d reached the establishment and flung open the door, Sturges was already seated at the bar, shoulders hunched over a drink. His grubby clothes were strangely at peace with the setting; after work came play, naturally. Nobody looked over to where Sole was despite the loud bang as the handle hit the wall outside; it was busy enough at this time of day that the noise wasn’t so out of place itself.

Sole could’ve stayed resigned to the entryway and watched Sturges for hours if he hadn’t been a man on a mission. Even in the moments he took now, he was absolutely fascinated in the light these new developments cast on him. Same slicked back hair, same work hardened skin, but there was an air of reverence about him now – this man had come to love him?

Sole decided he’d waited long enough and crossed the threshold.

A few heads perked up from the sheer machismo that emanated from Sole’s stride. This boldness never broke, not even as Sole came to stand behind Sturges, arms crossed so tightly his form seemed to tremble from the tension of maintaining his courage. 

He tapped the man at the stool on the shoulder, and it was surprise that raised Sturges’ eyebrows when he whirled around to find Sole, looking somewhat upset with his mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Sole? Is something wrong?”

It was then that their earlier conversation in the garage ran through Sole’s mind. That had gone terribly wrong, and Sole wasn’t in a hurry to muck it up again.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

One eyebrow fell, rendering Sturges’ expression skeptical now, rather than surprised. Sole felt the moment slipping through his fingers again, and he knew that with each chance he messed up, the opportunity for another one grew slimmer and slimmer.

Sole’s hands clenched around the clammy sweat that had sprung out at his palms; then he rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and careened into Sturges, lips first.

There was a small gasp from one of the men, though Sole couldn’t quite discern who it was, so he settled for moving his mouth against Sturges’ and committing the feel to memory. He tasted like one might imagine; lips slightly rasped - as the rest of the man was, no doubt. Sole groaned at the confirmation of this when Sturges’ hands found their way into his hair and held him hard against his body.

When they finally pulled away, the night chatter and bustling nature of the bar was still in full swing. Not a glass disturbed, or a darts game unwaged as the chaos of night life ensued, and Sole and Sturges clutched each other close.

“How about you pull up a seat, _best friend_?” Sturges suggested, with a wide grin as he drew his thumb against the flat of Sole’s cheekbone.

“Much obliged,” Sole answered, a little breathless though he did proceed to do just that.

They passed much the night this way, side by side, sharing drinks, and occasionally bumping their feet together in the safe coverage the seating arrangements provided, where they could be sure no one might disturb them.


End file.
